Second sight

Last year, shortly after my mom died, I told a friend that I realized I was stronger than I thought I was. She said, "I could have told you that. I have always known you had more strength than you give yourself credit for." I thought, "How could she know that when I did not?"

We never see ourselves as those who love us do. Instead, we peer through eyes that behave like funhouse mirrors, distorting reality so that all we see are our failings. If only, as Gallagher has joked, body parts were actually parts, exchangeable and returnable, and we could don another's eyes to see ourselves in a more positive light than we ever shine our way. Maybe with frequent second sight our faulty mindset would dissipate into nothingness, a figment with no more substance than a magician's illusion.

If that were possible, I'd lend my eyes to my friend whose disease has delivered another setback. This latest is a most sobering and frightening experience. She admitted she was embarrassed by it. In her voice, I could hear frustration that she had succumbed to despair and ceded control over her life as if she held all the power in her hands, as if this were nothing more than a mind over matter issue. I worry that she believes she is unequal to the challenge because she has stumbled again.

She is wrong. Oh, my God, she is so wrong. Despite numerous knock downs, she keeps getting back up and moving forward, once again retracing her steps, even though she's tired of the battle. A lesser person would have given up and given in long ago. Not her. Her strength is hidden from her view but I can see it clearly. Add to that a healthy dose of bullheadedness (who says that's a negative trait?) and she has what she needs to carry on.

Unfortunately, I can't lend her my eyes. Instead I must rely on words to convey my view to her. And I will tell her as many times as she needs to hear it.

Hindsight isn't the only thing that is 20/20.

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring...

I love a good rainstorm. After weeks of dry weather, I welcome the first fall rain. Everything looks all sparkly new and the air smells sweet. The earthworms come out to play and the garden gets a good drink. I'll keep working in a light rain but when it comes down hard, as it just did, I do have the sense to come inside. My focus stays outside, though, as I watch the rain come down.

Now don't hate me but...

I don't even mind when it keeps on raining, even after months of it. I love the cloud formations and the play of light, even when there's little of it, that comes with the rain.

Maybe you think I'm crazy but it beats the heck out of same ol', same ol' or snow, ice and bitter cold. Besides the rain gives me a good excuse to curl up with a book or watch a favorite old movie. And without the rain, Oregon wouldn't be the green jewel it is.

Pardon me, I must go listen to the rain.

Enough already

My aunt's sister died yesterday morning after a long struggle with bladder cancer.

My uncle died August 9th from pulmonary fibrosis.

My mom died December 11th from myelodysplasia.

A very good friend died almost a year ago on September 19th. He lasted only 5 days after his leukemia diagnosis.

My cousin died just over a year ago on August 20th from melanoma.

Enough already.

We get the point.

Life is short. Treasure every day.

Treat others with kindness.

Forgive with grace.

Seek laughter, not tears.

Tell those you love just how much they mean to you.

Enough already.

Wanna go for a ride?

What do you do if you own a motorcycle and want to take your dog along for a ride? You get a sidecar, that's what! On a country road not far from home, I saw a man and his best friend cruising along, side by side, enjoying the sunshine and the scenery. That dog was so happy, he was grinning ear to ear. It put a smile on my face, too.

I'm still chuckling over it.

Hi ho, hi ho...

I love this time of year! Cool mornings give way to warmth, warm afternoons slip into refreshingly cool evenings. Is the term Indian Summer politically correct these days? If not, how else do we describe perfect gardening weather so succinctly?

Regardless of what we call it, I am free to take advantage of this glorious season, having completed many long-standing committments. I am, however, refusing to acknowledge all I need to do in my garden. Four years of benign neglect makes for a dauntingly long "to do" list. I'm choosing ignorance - if I were to realize how much I had to do, I might never find the courage or the energy to take the first step. So I begin, realizing that it doesn't matter what I do, as long as I do something.

Those first steps are doozies. My gardening efforts this weekend filled up 3 yard debris bins (thank you, neighbors, for lending me yours) and the back of our pickup. At 5:00pm yesterday, I paused to look at all I'd managed to do, feeling smugly satisfied by my accomplishments. That was a mistake. I had managed to do so much because, even when I slowed down, I did not stop moving completely. But now I'd done it. I'd lost my momentum and it might require more energy than I had left to ever move again. I was feeling every single second of my 48 years of age and then some.

Oy.

Somehow, I summoned up the energy to move again. Good thing I did, or else I might still be out there, covered in morning dew. Hmmmm, perhaps that was the source of my motivation.

But enough talk. It's time for action. I'm going to ignore my aching muscles and (if you'll pardon the cliche) just do it.

That pickup won't unload itself.

Darn it.